Do You Believe in Angels?

After spending over 16 years in Catholic schools, attending church every Sunday (up until about 5 years ago) and even serving as a Eucharistic minister, I still struggle with faith. How do we know there is a Heaven? How do we know God has a plan for us? Where are the water-to-wine miracles? The elementary answer I've always gotten is that you just have to have faith.

But what exactly is faith and can it be defined? The older I get, I'm starting to see that faith is different for everyone. People use faith to deal with all different types of things--death, sickness, troubled times. And sometimes faith is just an everyday thing that people have.

I can't say that my own faith is rock solid. It's my nature to question things. But my faith has grown much stronger since my grandma, a faithful believer, passed away close to 5 years ago. Among other things, I listened to Vince Gill's song Go Rest High On That Mountain as a way to comfort myself. It's a beautiful song and these lyrics specifically made me happy:

Your work on earth is done
Go to heaven a shoutin'
Love for the Father and Son

Because that's how Grandma made an entrance.

And now, almost always after thinking about Grandma, I hear that song. It's happened at home, in my car during rush hour (which is weird--a 15 year old song that is slow and sad is not typical rush hour music) and at work. It always causes me to stop and smile. So that's my faith. That she's somewhere, still in-tune with her family.

I ran across this article today and think it's a wonderful example of faith. Whether people say it's true or a sun spot or a doctored image or scientifically not possible, who cares? It gave this mother reason to continue to believe. And that's the great thing about faith. It's what people do with it that counts.

http://today.msnbc.msn.com/id/28364813/?GT1=43001#storyContinued

Go Ahead. Make My Millennium.

As I've mentioned before, I tend to eavesdrop. Don't get me wrong, it's never malicious. But if I hear something amusing enough, I file it away. And today, ladies and gentlemen, I got a gem.

I was in Victoria's Secret during my lunch hour finishing up some Christmas shopping. Minding my own business, of course. Well, that's not entirely true. Let's be honest, I also love to people watch. And let me tell you, Christmastime at Victoria's Secret is the perfect place to people watch. Women are hastily trying to find the perfect sexy outfit. Men won't look at anything or anyone for longer than 2 seconds. Lots of nervousness. But the absolute best is when a couple shops at Vicki's together. Perhaps women see it as a way to get some guidance as to what is super sexy. And maybe it gives men license to linger a little longer than they normally would. The couple I saw today was a perfect case study to support this theory.

The woman, in her late thirties, was practically running from item to item, holding them up for her husband to either support or veto. At first, he stayed about two steps behind her, but eventually began going off on his own. He actually started picking stuff up and offering suggestions. Hands out of pockets and touching lingerie. Amazing. Pretty soon, it was like he owned the place.

After awhile, they made their purchases and were headed back my way in order to leave the store. I guess he was still on the Vicki's natural high because he was still pointing stuff out and making comments. As soon as they passed me, he stopped, pointed at a pair of pajama pants and said "Huh. Those look like somethin' Beetlejuice'd wear!"

I did some investigative research and really, can you blame him?

The pants in question.

Beetlejuice.

So I guess the moral of the story is to take your man lingerie shopping with you. If you don't, you'll end up paying $98 dollars for a pair of sexy pants that will make your man think of Beetlejuice when you are trying to get down to business.

Just a bit of advice. That's what I'm here for folks.

My First Meme

I was tagged to do a meme by Netter, and while I love this kind of stuff, the directions say I have to complete it and then tag 5 more people. Sadly, I don't have 5 blogging friends to tag. So, if it's okay to break the rules, I'm just going to tag my big bro over at Jacob's Field. I'd love to tag my mom, dad and even Anonymous (just to see how this generation's Scrooge gets through the holidays), but they are all blogless. Until you guys get in the game, I'm going to have to make an effort to make some more blogging friends!

1) Wrapping paper or gift bags? Hmm. For Christmas, mostly gift wrap. Any other time of year? Gift bags.

2) Real tree or artificial? Real tree. Love the experience of going to pick one out with P. We've got some pretty good memories--like last year, for instance, when the guy at the tree farm lost his razor blade trying to cut twine out of our tree. I located said blade a few days later when I got a flat. Only P and I would manage to run over it in the vast space of a tree farm. Then there's our first Christmas together when we went to a u-cut farm and it was so hot P had to take off his shirt while cutting down the tree. I didn't mind though...

3) When do you put up the tree? Usually after Thanksgiving.

4) When do you take the tree down? When it dies? Seriously, sometimes not until the end of January. We like it!

5) Do you like eggnog? YES!

6) Favorite gift received as a child? A Barbie pool seems to stick out in my mind.

7) Hardest person to buy for? This is a tough one. Probably Mom, but just because her b-day is a few days before Christmas!

8) Easiest person to buy for? Wow. This is a tough one too. Has to be a tie between P and my brother. With P, you can't miss with fishing, boating or golfing stuff. With Frank, you can't miss because he tells you EXACTLY which gift card he wants.

9) Do you have a nativity scene? Yes, we got one from P's mom for Christmas a few years ago. I love it, but it's not like the one Mom and Dad had growing up. Mom and Dad's has removable pieces and a hay loft. You never know who Frank and I would put up in that loft. A camel? Check. A wise man? Check. Baby Jesus? Check. Hey, we were kids!

10) Worst Christmas gift you ever received? I don't know. Probably underwear or socks.

11) Favorite Christmas Movie? Tough, but it's GOT to be It's a Wonderful Life. I just love it!

12) Favorite Christmas song? White Christmas by Otis Redding.

13) Travel at Christmas or stay home? Usually both. Might change when we have kids though!

14) Have you ever recycled a Christmas present? Yes. Two words: rice cooker.

15) Favorite ornament theme or color? I really like the look of white lights with gold trim, but it's just not as fun as the old school colorful lights! I remember Dad putting them up every year--seeing them always reminds me of Eastland Drive!

Quick Poll Results: SN Readers Like Eggnog, Hate Quick Polls

Seriously people. You hate my polls don't you? Since I was one of the SIX replies (somebody had to get the ball rolling), thanks to the five of you who took the time to take the poll. I sincerely appreciate it. We'll get to the double digits eventually!

Gone Baby Gone

Earlier this year, one of the restaurants in my little town made the evening news by catching fire and temporarily shutting down one of the main state routes in Ohio. The restaurant, a BBQ joint with the best pizza in town (yes, you read that correctly), didn't burn to the ground but sustained enough damage to close. We wondered what would happen until a For Sale sign appeared under the word "FIRE" on the side of the building.

Months have gone by and nothing has happened. I thought we were destined to have an ugly, empty building to look at--and no more pizza at that! I was a bit surprised to drive by late last week and see half of the building missing, a dump truck in its place. I'm not sure if someone bought it and is planning to rebuild, but by the very next day, the building was gone. The only reminder it once stood there is a row of artifacts lined up against the back fence: a deep fryer, tables, chairs, bar stools, a kitchen sink.

Oh, and a mannequin. Yup. Pale skin, shiny black hair and a fierce hot pink strapless mini-dress.

I don't remember seeing this mannequin used in the restaurant for any purpose, so I'm at a loss for where she came from. All I know is that when I passed by later that night, she was gone. Still there were all the tables, chairs and bar stools. But that mannequin? Gone baby, gone. I should mention that this particular day was one of the coldest Ohio has had all year. It also snowed somewhat unexpectedly. So someone trudged out in the snow and cold to cherry pick the best find in the bunch. I only wish I had gotten a photo. Wonder where she is tonight?

Quick Poll: Do You Nog?

I probably shouldn't admit this, but one of my favorite things about Christmas is eggnog. It's so tasty and has such a unique flavor that to me, it's Christmas in a cup. To my mom's side of the family, it's more than that. To them, it's not complete without fresh nutmeg, rum and a huge punch bowl. To each his own of course, but I prefer mine naked--no liquor, no nutmeg, just pure deliciousness.

I'm curious to see where you stand. Love it, hate it or never tried it? Take my poll to the right.

And to my fellow eggnog lovers (wherever you are), I've got three words for you: McDonald's Eggnog Milkshake.

Flat

*All Names and DaTes Have Been Changed

Earlier this week while leaving for work, I noticed that one of my tires looked dangerously low--and I did the worst thing ever. I drove on it anyway. Actually, I made P come out and look at it first. He didn't seem too worried about it and said he'd put air in it "later." Because P and I celebrated our 5th anniversary just last week (hooray!) I know that for "later" to happen, I will have to nag him for at least a week until I finally get him by painting a fairly graphic picture of how the tire will pop, I'll skid off the road, land in a ditch out of sight and survive only as long as my half-empty water bottles and unopened McDonald's BBQ packets will allow.

As a side note, you should know that P's idea of car maintenance is suspect. He once let all four tires on our old Corolla blow out individually because "it didn't make sense" to replace all 4 at the same time. Seriously. Who does that? He even had to change one in the Hocking Hills during a snowstorm while wearing a suit. For the record, I did not feel sorry for him. I just hoped it knocked some sense into him. To date, no such luck.

Back to my story. I made it to work, but at lunchtime noticed that the tire was almost completely flat. So I drove it to a tire place close to my work to see if they could look at it for me. I walked inside and was greeted by a gentleman who asked if I had an appointment. Our conversation went something like this:

Him: "Do you have an appointment?"

Me (with a big smile, because I almost always smile when I greet people):
"No, I have a flat and was wondering if you could check it out for me."

Him: "We're booked pretty solid until 5 today."

Me: "Okay?"

Him: "I suppose I could see if we could fit it in, but I don't know. We're booked until 5."

Me: "Okaaaayyyy. Can I leave it and you can just get to it if you can?"

Him: "We are just absolutely booked until 5."

Me: No words, just looking around in confusion for someone else who might be able to decipher this whole booked until 5 code. At that moment, another employee walked in.

Him #1: "Aren't we just absolutely booked from now until 5?"

Him #2: At first, no words, just the expression of wide eyes, an exaggerated breath of air and raised eyebrows. You know the look. "We are booked until 5."

Me: "Okaaaayyyy. So should I take it somewhere else?"

Him #2: "Well, it would have helped if you would have had an appointment."

Enough. I never do this, but...

Me, rather loudly: "I know. But I didn't plan on getting a flat tire today. I would have loved to make an appointment if I had known though. Sorry!"

I think I might have thrown my arms up in the air too. Really, my exasperation was a result of not being told my options. It's fine if you are booked solid until 5, but quit telling me that and let's move on to the next step. Do I leave my keys and come back later? Should I make an appointment for the first open slot at 5? Should I go somewhere else? Let's move on to the problem solving portion of the conversation!

To my surprise and embarrassment, it worked.

Him #2: "It's just with the holidays, people are traveling a lot so they're bringing in their cars for work. We're just really busy."

Me: "That's fine, just tell me what I should do. Should I take it somewhere else?"

Him #2: "Can you leave the keys here and come back later? We'll call you when it's done."

I handed over the keys and got a ride back to work. A few hours later, I called to check on the progress. They were just getting it into the garage, but by the time I got there it would probably be ready. I arrived, waited around for a bit, then was handed my keys and told I was ready to go. I followed Him #2 out to the cash register, but he waived me away.

Him #2: "Nope. This one's on me."

Me: "Thank you, but no. I'm going to pay."

Him #2: "No, no. Seriously. It's been taken care of."

Me: "I'm going to pay."

Him #2: "No, just think of us when you need new tires."

I shrugged my shoulders, said thanks one more time and left. It felt weird though. Did he waive my payment because I complained? Do complainers get more attention? Hmm. Squeaky wheel gets the grease.

I've often heard my mother, a middle school teacher, lament how her trouble makers sometimes get more of her attention than her well-behaved students. It bothers her quite a bit because, well, it's not fair. I suppose it's a little different because these kids aren't complaining, they're just acting out. But I also suppose, whether they realize it or not, they know that when they're bad, they get more attention. So they continue to be bad.

And it's the same with complainers. I've seen complainers in action in stores, restaurants (although the complainer is risking a little something extra in their food), at the airport, at work. Everywhere. What makes me sick is that the complainer most likely gets his/her way, even if it's ridiculous. I've been in a group with a complainer and when the complaining starts, I want to bolt for the nearest exit.

Bottom line: I don't want to be a complainer! I want to live in a world where being nice gets you good service. Where patience and a smile open doors (and fix flat tires). But, but...I just got free car service because I was rude. Is this really the world we live in? Where people respond more to rudeness than kindness? Yuck! For me, if paying meant erasing my tiny outburst, I would have paid double. So I'm sticking with kindness. How about you?

Pickles and Clams, Pickles and Clams!

I have a stalker. Thankfully, I got a good look at her the other day: about 5'7", brown hair, pasty white skin, green eyes and freakishly small hands. Socially awkward, to say the least. She's married, lives in small neighborhood and has a dog. Hey, wait...she sounds familiar.

That's right, I'm my own stalker.

Earlier this year I added an application to this blog called FEEDJIT. It provides a live time and date stamp, and tracks where readers come from. Sounds neat, huh? Well, I've become a little obsessed.

I mean, how cool is it that I can see what people query when they click here from Google? Let me tell you, it's very cool. So cool that I started checking my blog every few hours to see if I had gotten any new visitors from far away places. FEEDJIT, I was smitten.

But then I started to see a trend: every single person who arrived here from Google searched either Pickles Cause Nightmares or Duck for the Oyster Dive for the Clam. And as far as I can tell, none of them have been back.

So. This is what you want? Pickles and clams? Fine. The Internet has a wealth of information and I'm confident I can give you the fix you need. In fact, I'll start today.

Sometimes Nothing Picklicious Fun Fact #1:
Americans consume more than 9 pounds of pickles per person annually. (Say that five times fast.)

Sometimes Nothing Clammy Hands Naked Truth Numero Uno:
The giant clam gets only one chance to find a nice home. Once it fastens itself to a spot on a reef, there it sits for the rest of its life. (Pick yourself a winner!)

Bathroom Lottery

In 2006, a contractor in Cleveland found nearly $180,000 behind a bathroom wall in the house of a former high school classmate who had hired him for a home improvement project. According to labeling on one of the envelopes, the money belonged to a wealthy businessman who lived in the home during the Great Depression. Together, the contractor and home owner inspected the rare bills and took pictures of the find.

Normally I love stories like this. However, this one probably turned sour immediately after the last picture was taken. The contractor most likely hung around, waiting for an offer. The home owner most likely packed up the money, pretending like it didn't exist. Eventually, the home owner offered 10%, but the contractor wanted 40%. As they went back and forth, The Plain Dealer somehow picked up the story and the descendants of the businessman stepped forward and sued for a right to the money. All 21 of them.

To see how it all worked out, click here. I'm interested to see what you think: did the contractor have a right to the money? Was 10% a fair offer? If you were the contractor, would you have pocketed the money or reported it?

Hmm. Greed makes people do funny things.

Successful Surprise Party - Happy 30th P!

 

There was a keg. There was karaoke. I give you this picture.

After we got home and were getting ready for bed, I asked P if he had a good time.

"Yes," he said. "It was a fun good time."

Which I think could be the Midwest's answer to Boston's "wicked good." I'm now saying it as much as possible. I don't think P remembers coining this new phrase, but I'm rolling with it anyway.

The Tribe Has Spoken...

...and 8 of you don't want to hear Christmas music until Thanksgiving. The last voter doesn't even want to hear it until Christmas Eve. So cool it until late November, Delilah!

As a side note, I was pleased as punch to see that 9 of you took the survey. So close to double digits I can't stand it!

By Special Request

This past Friday, October 31, while on hold with a doctor's office, I heard it for the first time this year: Christmas music. Just now I checked my cell phone and had a message from my brother saying he had great blog material for me. He had just come from Wal-Mart, where he had been treated to Silent Night and other Christmas tunes playing on the in-store stereo system. Apparently Halloween is the new Thanksgiving.

I'm torn because I really do love the holiday season. I love the traditions we do to prepare for the upcoming season: watching It's a Wonderful Life, Elf and The Bishop's Wife (the original, NOT the Whitney Houston disaster), pulling out the Kitchen Aid mixer my grandma gave me for my wedding and making all sorts of Christmas cookies, decorating the front of the house with lights, wreaths and ribbons, shopping for special gifts (Anti-Monkey Butt Powder) and of course, listening to Christmas music. It really sets the mood for the season. But it's supposed to be 70-degrees here for the next five days, so it's NOT the season.

Of course, this theory doesn't really matter for people like my brother who live in areas of the country where it's 70-degrees most of the "winter." So I guess my argument is really that it's just flat out ridiculous to start Christmas music on October 31. Why can't we slow down, enjoy all the holidays (yes, Halloween is a holiday in this household) and not rush through everything?

What do you think? Take my new poll to the right--I'm interested to see the results of this one! Feliz Navidad...

Pickle Update: See If I Care

For those interested, I didn't experience any nightmares as a result of eating pickles before bedtime the other night. I did, however, receive an email from my mother the next day that said: "Eat all the pickles you want. See if I care!"

Eating Pickles Before Bed Gives You Nightmares: Myth or Mom?

I've been sick for over a week now and haven't had much of an appetite, except for pickles (okay, and Cheez-It Party Mix). Pickles are an all-time favorite of mine and when I have them in the house, they don't last long. So while eating my third spear tonight at about 9:00, I had a mini panic attack. I remembered that when I was little, my mom told me that eating too many pickles before bedtime causes nightmares. But this can't be true, can it? Certainly it's one of those things parents make up to keep their kids in line.

In this case, my mom was probably trying to extend the shelf life of her groceries. Scaring me off the pickles with the nightmare line makes sense. But I find myself in bed, 29 years old and a little afraid to fall asleep. So myth or just mom? We'll find out in the morning.

Nick and Nora's Infinite Baby Collection

During my lunch hour yesterday, I stopped by the local Target to pick up a baby shower gift for a party this weekend. Registry in hand, I walked up and down the baby department aisles looking at all the wares. Adorable items like blankets, booties and hats. Necessities like baby first aid kits, diapers and wipes. And not-yet-a-mother terrifying items like nursing bra pads, breastmilk ice packs and contact nipple shields (what? what? WHAT?).

I made my selection (not the nipple shields) and walked over to the baby clothes to find a cute onesie. While browsing, I spotted a sign all the way across the department that read: Nick and Nora's Baby Collection - 30% Off! I actually stopped in my tracks and thought: they've made baby clothes for Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist? Immediately, I was pissed. I get the whole marketing to kids in fast food meals, on diapers and with toys--but for cartoons or age appropriate movies. This, this was ridiculous! Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist isn't even a kids movie! What is the world coming to? How low will studio execs go to sell movies? Why, Target, why?

I made a beeline for the display, expecting to see little outfits with cassette tapes, yellow cars and floating heads of Nick and Norah.

That is NOT what I found.

Instead, I found the sweetest, most innocent collection of baby wear I've ever seen. Puppies and ribbons and rainbows. Nick and Nora do have a baby collection, but it's Nick and Nora without an "h" or the Infinite Playlist. I guess I need to do a little more research before becoming a mother someday. The nipple shields will be on a need to know basis though.

Deep Fried Cheesecake? Check!

The third weekend of October brings a special treat to Pickaway County every year: the Circleville Pumpkin Show. For those of you who have never been, it's dubbed the Greatest Free Show on Earth and takes place in downtown Circleville, a small town south of Columbus with a population of around 12,000. Over 300 food and game vendors line the streets, and attendance each day reaches 100,000. My favorite Pumpkin Show activities are the Thursday night Marching Band Parade, playing the cane game and, of course, eating.

As you can imagine, most of the offerings are pumpkin flavored--pumpkin chili, pumpkin hamburgers and pumpkin taffy. I tend to stay away from any pumpkin flavored foods that aren't desserts, and fortunately (or unfortunately, I guess), that leaves A LOT. Here's a list of all the items I sampled this week (at least a bite):

- Chicken and Noodles
- Pumpkin Cheesecake
- Italian Sausage Sandwich
- Cannoli
- Crab Corn Chowder
- Cream Puff
- Pumpkin Pie
- Steak-on-a-Stick
- French Fries
- Pizza
- Lemon Shake-up
- Deep Fried Cheesecake
- Bee Sting Pastry
- Cheese-on-a-Stick

Who needs vegetables?

P Gets a New Job; SN Readers Get a Lazy Post

P started a new job this week, and while it's an incredibly awesome move, it's caused a tiny bit of chaos in our household. We've been swapping computers, moving furniture and fighting with Time Warner. So without easy access, I give you another video post. It isn't political and has nothing to do with the economy--it's just a commercial from a few years ago that I always found amusing and clever. Who knew Martin Scorsese, director of some of the most violent and depressing movies of our time, had a sharp sense of humor?



Got any favorites of your own?

The World According to P

P's take on the Presidential debate tonight?

"Both of these guys are shady. I'd vote for Tom Brokaw though."

I think he was joking, but I'm not sure. He's not above a write-in.

Two Bare Feet On The Dashboard

With crisp mornings and cool nights settling in, I thought it would be appropriate to post some of my favorite summertime videos. Most of them are goofy, but that's how we roll in this household. Oh, and I haven't mastered the editing software, so I just didn't edit anything. Enjoy:



My favorite thing about this video is listening to the people talking in the background. Listen carefully and you'll hear something like "My goodness. You still bathing?" Again, that's how we roll--there's nothing like a good shampoo in the lake.




This is P's younger brother's girlfriend jumping off the cliff in Tennessee for the first time. Lewis' commentary, a random boater blasting music to coax her to jump and her terrifying scream might make this the best video of the summer. Way to go, Heather!




A little action from our zipline tour in Hocking Hills. P holds the camera on one of the longer lines--as close to the real thing as you can get!




This video serves two purposes. 1. It proves that I actually did the zipline. 2. It proves that P can actually use our camera.




These last two are from last year, but I thought I'd include them anyway. This is P barefooting off the top of the pontoon boat--it definitely wins the best story award: P's aunt was flipping out that he was going to try this. She tried pleading with me to stop him. Like he's going to listen to me. So she moved on to P's mom, but found her in the water, positioning the boat so P would have a better angle. I love it! I guess raising five kids makes you less nervous about potential injuries.




I really don't know why, but this video just cracks me up. All four were supposed to swan dive, but the middle two either chickened out or forgot. I just like listening to P's laugh--it reminds me of summer. (See what I did there? Brought this post full circle.)

One Thing Is Not Like The Other

A Little Fun and the American People, You Know

Instead of debating the debate, I thought I'd send some willing readers to a rather fun article my dad, an English teacher, passed along to me. It's from Slate.com, so while it's biased, it's also deliciously entertaining (at least for English majors).

Click here to check it out.

The Kid or The Carpet?

Earlier this week, a coworker of mine fresh from maternity leave experienced one of her first panic attacks as a new mother. She was carrying her infant son down the stairs and somehow tripped and fell down the last few steps. In an instant, she managed to lift him above her head to keep him steady and safe. He whimpered for a second, but was fine. Telling the story a few hours later, it was clear she was still a bit shaken. While telling her that I was sure he was fine, I couldn't help but think of a similar experience I had with my own mother when I was younger. However, my story ended a bit differently.

I was in high school and walking down the stairs by myself. My mother was in the bathroom at the top of the stairs getting ready for work. Halfway down I slipped and tumbled all the way to the foyer, landing on my butt with my legs flipped up in the air back toward the stairs. I happened to be carrying a glass of orange juice. Because I screamed a little and made quite a bit of noise, I knew my mom would appear, worried about what happened. Sure enough, I looked up and there she stood, curling iron in one hand and a mug of coffee in the other (if she had another hand, it would have been on her hip).

"Did you get any juice on the carpet?" she asked.

Now don't get the wrong idea. My mom is the sweetest lady and spent most of my childhood worried about my safety--it was prompted by things like sporting events, field trips, sleeping in my bed at night. But eventually, I suspect that my mom, like most parents, got to the point were she just couldn't sweat the small stuff anymore. During this stair surfing incident, I was a teenager, not a baby or toddler, and perfectly capable of letting her know if I was truly hurt. She obviously knew I was okay or else she would have been down those stairs in a flash. But she wasn't overly concerned about clucking over me either.

Still, it strikes me as funny. When and why do parents get to that point? Is it the age of the child? Exhaustion from years of worrying? Brand new, really expensive carpet?

Someday my coworker will probably watch her son take a bad spill and tell him to rub some grass on it or walk it off. But right now, she's definitely taking the kid over the carpet. Where are you? Vote in my poll to the right and be honest. Somewhere, some way, your mother is watching you...

P.S. Mom, if you're reading this, I'd like to remind you that I didn't get any juice on the carpet that day. So maybe consider cutting me some slack on this post!

Duck for the Oyster, Dive for the Clam

This past Saturday, I did something I thought I'd never do.  Y'all, I went square dancing.  P's family hosted a corn roast that included a bonfire, homemade chili and a square dance caller after dinner.  I really wasn't looking forward to it because I prefer to make fun of things I'm not familiar with, but much to my surprise I ended up having a lot of fun!  It was very casual, with the grass as our dance floor.  No professionals, nothing serious.  Just a bunch of friends and family having a small town Saturday night!  Check out some pictures from the night:

This is Duck for the Oyster, Dive for the Clam with the whole group.  I called for a sub on this one and took pictures instead.  

The same thing, but with a smaller group.  

P sporting his cowboy look.  At first, not so much.  But toward the end of the night, I got used to it.  You know, once a year is fine.

P and I after some dancing.

That's a Long Distance Call - Doug!

Football season's got me thinking about one of my all-time favorite athletes. That's right: Terry Tate, office linebacker.

If I Had a Million Dollars

Think about it. What would you do if you had a million dollars? How drastically would it change your life? Would you quit your job? Morph into a different person? Develop expensive tastes?

I can't immediately answer all these questions, but I can give you three absolutes: I would buy my dad a boat, I would hunt down and purchase the Addams Family pinball game for my mom, and I would continue shopping at Value City. Because basically, a trip to Value City is a priceless experience and I assume that even as a millionaire, I wouldn't stop having fun. Snobs just don't know what they're missing. Here's an example of something I saw while shopping there earlier this week:

African Blow Dart Recall - Not a Child's Toy! Please Return to Store Immediately!

Seriously, where else are you going to see an African Blow Dart recall? The flyer even explained how it had been sold as a child's toy, but it in fact, was a fully functional blow dart. How does the buyer for Value City make that type of mistake? Amazing. Priceless. Hilarious.

I will never stop shopping at the VC--I'll just stick to my rules of no toys (see blow dart example), no off-brand electronics (fire hazard) and no Christmas or birthday shopping there (see blow dart example). I don't want to be responsible for any of my nephews shooting up their neighborhood friends with the brand new blow dart Aunt Mo Mo gave them.

Swapping CDs: Illegal or Common Sense?

I was talking music with a co-worker earlier this week, and during our conversation I mentioned that I sometimes go to the local library, check out CDs and download the songs I like to my iPod.  I thought nothing of it, and only mentioned it because he was telling me he was trying to decide whether or not he should buy an entire CD based on the snippets iTunes allows users to hear.  Really, I thought I was giving him a tip.  

Instead, he told me that he feels uncomfortable even letting his friends borrow his CDs just so they can burn them or download them to an MP3 player.  Now, I've always been known as a follow-the-rules type of person.  The last time I was at the hospital, I asked the discharge nurse where I should take my $150 co-pay.  But not letting my friends borrow my CDs?  Even I'm not that much of a downer.

To be fair, this guys really loves music.  And maybe rules, I'm not sure.  His intentions are good--he feels that the activity of file sharing is ripping off artists.  But haven't we (and by "we" I mean society) been file sharing for years?  Books, movies and music are all available for checkout at your local library.

So what do you think?  Am I taking advantage of my library by downloading music from their CDs to my iPod?  If so, should I also stop checking out books?  Because those artists aren't seeing a penny from me either.  

Hmm.  How technology changes the world.    

I'm really interested to see what Jimmer thinks about this one.

Never Wanted Nothing More

Vacations are a tricky thing in life.  If we took them all the time, we probably wouldn't appreciate them as much.  But still, this past Labor Day I think I could have managed a few more days of boating, camping, reading and trading stories around the fire.  It's sad to leave, to close out the summer, but like Practically Netter, I welcome the fall.  A whole new set of activities await and for some reason, fall does something for my soul (it might, however, just be the chili P makes during football season).  

That said, the 2nd Annual Labor Day Dale Hollow Extravaganza was a great end to a wonderful summer!  Check out a few pictures from the trip:   

This is the pontoon boat we rented for a few days.  It's just not possible to have a bad time with this boat and the crew we had on board!

Here is the view from our campsite.  Sigh...

P, his cousin, his brother and little sister out on a morning barefoot run.  His sister is the one out on the boom.  She has more guts than me, although I did surprise myself by jumping off the top of the pontoon boat by the end of the trip.  With a life jacket on, of course.  

And finally, this is me reading and relaxing out on the Cabana Islander, which is quite possibly the second love of my life.  I'm considering inflating it and putting it in the family room this winter if I miss it too much. 

It's Official: I Am An Old Lady

For those of you unfamiliar with Cedar Point, it's an amusement/roller coaster park that is the greatest place on earth for kids, teenagers and thrill seekers. I am none of those things, but since I hadn't been in about 6 or 7 years, I decided it was time to check it out again. This is what I found:

1. I hate wooden roller coasters. This includes the Mean Streak, the Blue Streak and the Mine Ride. Yes, the Mine Ride. We got stuck on the last hill for a few minutes and even rolled back a bit. This equals me never riding it again.

2. I love skeeball.

3. I hate kids and teenagers (okay, not all kids and teenagers, just the bad ones). At the end of the night while standing in line for the Raptor, I got spit on. Some kid or teenager spit out on the crowd from the ride. As P cleaned it off my back, I watched a teenager full on pick his nose in the line ahead of me. I had had enough at that point and we left for the night immediately after the ride.

4. I love keeping up-to-date on the latest white trash fashion trends. This includes peekaboo thongs, airbrushed t-shirts and angel wing tattoos.

5. I hate going to the park with a thrill seeker when there's only one thrill seeker in the group. Do you want to ride the Top Thrill Dragster? No. Millenium Force? No. Magnum? No. Wicked Twister? No. Mantis? No. I felt so bad that telling P no, but I just can't do the big rides anymore. I did ride the Gemini and Iron Dragon with him though, so there.

6. I love the Sky Ride.

7. I hate feeling like I need to be scrubbed with Germ X immediately after leaving the park. This would apply even if didn't get spit on.

8. I love the giant old-fashioned swing. Although this year even that ride almost made me sick.

So, yup, it's official. I'm definitely an old lady. But will I go again? Sure. But it will probably be over Halloweekends so I can at least go to some haunted houses!

Making Others 100% More Awkward Since 1979

I like to think that God blessed me with some special talents in this life.  And you know what?  He did, He just didn't give me any conventional talents.  While it turns out that I can't play the piano a lick, keep a plant alive for longer than a week or speak French after 4 years of classes, I can turn a normal interaction into the most awkward situation in a matter of seconds.  Here's an example of me ending a phone conversation today with a potential work partner:

Him:  "So I should follow-up with you in about a month?"

Me:  "Yes, that will work."

Him:  "Ok, I look forward to talking with you then."

Me:  "Yes, call me.  A month should be good."

Silence.

Me:  "So, call me around then and we might be ready to move forward.  You know, hopefully, if we like it."

Him:  "Ok, I'll be calling you."

Me:  "Ok.  I mean, that should be good.  I don't see why it wouldn't be.  Unless, of course . . . you know, just call."

Him:  "Ok, thanks for your time."

Me:  "Thanks for your time."

Him:  "You, too."

See what I did there?  I totally threw him off.  By the end of the conversation, he was dying for me to end the call.  Just waiting for me to tell him something like "have a great night" or "it was nice talking with you."  He had "you, too" all ready to go.  But instead, he probably hung up the phone, scratched his head and thought:  how did that happen?   

Bet he's counting down the days until he dials my number again.  "So glad you called!  I've been waiting for you to call.  Well, not waiting, you know.  But I was expecting your call, so I was thinking about it . . ."

The Sweetest Thing

Last night while working the fish fry booth at the local festival, I took an order from an older gentleman for three fish sandwiches on wheat bread. I shouted the order back to the fryers and turned back to take the old man's money. He had his $12 in one hand and a covered soup pan in the other.

"Would you mind putting the fish in here?" he asked as he slid the pan over to me on the counter. "My wife just got home from the hospital yesterday and I promised her I would run up here to get her some fish. I want to make sure it's still warm by the time I get home."

"Sure," I said. "We can absolutely do that."

I carried the pan to the back and took off the lid. As I got ready to load the fish, I noticed that he had lined the pan with tin foil and placed a few napkins at the bottom to soak up the grease. I put the fish in, folded the foil over and put the bread on top. Making sure the lid fit tightly, I carried the pan back to the man.

"Will this do?" I asked.

"This will be perfect," he said. "I know she'll like it."

"Well I hope she feels better soon," I said.

He smiled and said "I hope so, too."

It was all so sweet I almost cried right there in the fish booth. The only thing that stopped me was imagining that five minutes earlier the bedridden wife probably shouted exact orders to him regarding the proper packing of fried fish: "Get out the foil!" "Don't forget the napkins!" "Use a pan with a lid!"

Closer to reality? Probably...

Don't You Just Hate It...

...when you go the whole day and realize that you forgot to put on deodorant?  

New Applications Are Fun!

While playing around with the settings on blogger tonight, I came across the new survey application.  So I decided to play around with it a bit, and I might even use it for something serious down the road.  But for now, I thought I'd poke some fun at the fact that I'm pretty sure my family members make up the majority of my "readership."  Which is fine, but help me out and get me above 10 results.  Vote twice if you have to--I probably will!

If You Have a Brain in Your Head

If there is one thing I'm truly afraid of, it's being home alone.  I had a bizarre incident in college involving a teenage runaway named Sherice that I promise I'll share on here someday.  But even before Sherice, I hated being alone.  So this past weekend while P was white-water rafting in West Virginia, I decided it was time to be an adult and stay at home all weekend by myself.  In the end, it went well, but it involved me spending a lot of time watching infomercials at 4 in the morning.  And let me tell you, the later it is, the worse the infomercials are.

Early in the night, the infomercials seem to feature items that are at least plausible.  A multi-tool titanium rod that easily switches from a mop-head to a screwdriver to a rake?  Sure, I would use that.  An eco-friendly 100-piece set of imitation Tupperware that comes with a special waterproof rack so you can wash them while you shower?  Makes sense, come to think of it.  But at 4 a.m., the doozies come out.  Ladies and gents, let me introduce you to the Pos T Vac!

In case you don't have much of an imagination, the Pos T Vac features a line of male enhancement vacuum therapy products geared toward the older crowd.  The testimonials were perfection.  A group of buddies out on the golf course, all candidly discussing their use of the Boss 2000.  A couple walking along the beach talking about how the MVP 700 saved their marriage.  

Then, following along the infomercial format, a price point was splashed all over the screen (which I honestly can't remember, but really, are you going to let price come between you and the Boss).  Then the freebie was featured--a handy, yet discreet, carrying case.  Finally, the commercial closed with the hard sell.  This is where it gets good.

A middle-aged, aggressive looking man barked at the camera, "If you have a brain in your head, buy this product now!"  This is a sales tactic I've never seen before and quite frankly, it's brilliant.  The only pre-requisite is having a brain.  I imagine that before long, the other infomercials will take notice and start using similar directives:

"If you live on planet earth, buy this product now!"

"If food is a regular part of your diet, buy this product now!"

"If you have fingers on your hands, pick up the phone and buy this product now!"

My prediction?  Pos T Vac will be bigger than Miss Cleo.             

A Dozen Roses and a Broke Down Truck

On my way to the movies yesterday afternoon, I happened upon a thirty-something year old man carrying a huge bouquet of assorted roses.  Normal, if we were in the city.  Not so normal since we were on country road outside of Columbus.  

I was headed north, and there he was, headed south at a brisk pace.  Sweating profusely and carrying only the flowers.  He held them up against his chest, as if to protect them from the wind of the passing cars.  He looked determined, to say the least.  

After an initial chuckle, I thought--seriously, where is this guy coming from?  The closest place to purchase flowers was perhaps a mile up the road at a supermarket.  And, in the other direction, there was nothing around for miles.  Hmm.  

I crested a small hill and saw a black pick-up pulled off to the side of the road.  There was no flat tire, no accident damage, no sticker indicating the truck had been inspected by the police or highway patrol.  Nope, the truck belonged to the flower man--it just had to.  My guess?  He ran out of gas and ditched the truck to get the flowers where they needed to be.  Which meant carrying a bouquet of flowers down a road with a posted speed limit of 55 in the 90-degree heat.  What would make a person do such a thing?  He totally cheated, I'm telling you.

And next time, screw the movie, I'm turning around to ask.     

RIP Bob Barciz

What seems like only a short while ago, the most important thing in my life was playing basketball.  And during my eighth grade year at St. Thomas Aquinas on the east side of Toledo, the most important thing about basketball was beating the girls down the road from St. Stephen's.  We were huge rivals in the world of girls CYO basketball and at the time, it was pretty intense.  So naturally, it came as a huge blow to lose to them in what would be our last tournament meeting.  To make things worse, their win sent us to the loser's bracket.

In the fourth quarter of the toilet bowl championship, the girls from St. Stephen's, lead by their grey-haired coach, marched across the court during a time-out and gathered around the end of our bench.  We were miffed.  Were they here to taunt us?  Warm up early for the real championship game?  Run us out of the building.  Nope.  Nothing could have been more shocking than to realize they had come to cheer for us.  After all, we were playing a team from the OTHER side of town.  This served as my first official lesson that east-siders stick together. 

As we took the floor, a chant started behind us:  East. Side. Pride!  East. Side. Pride!  The gym filled with chanting and clapping.  Pretty soon our fans stood up to join them, and the other team was finished.  I actually, honest to God, remember noticing how pleased their coach was by what had happened.  And that's how I came to meet Coach Bob Barciz.

Soon after, Coach Barciz put together a summer league called the East Side All-Stars (were you expecting a different name?) and he asked me to be on the team.  It would mean playing with girls from different schools around the area, but mostly girls from St. Stephen's.  It was meant to serve as the starting point for the girls that would attend Cardinal Stritch High School together and soon be on the same team anyway.  Plus, it was easy to see that old Coach Barciz loved the game of basketball, and he loved his players.  I jumped at the chance, eager to see what I could learn from this new coach.

As it turned out, Coach Barciz was not just passing us along to the high school.  He stuck around for the next four years and, at different times, served as freshman coach, summer league coach, scout and personal life coach.  During summer league ball before my senior year, a girl from the opposing team slammed into me and I completely blew my knee out.  No chance for recovery before the season started.  

Obviously, Division 5 high schools aren't a college scouter's paradise for finding potential talent, but I had a few Division 3 and even Division 2 colleges interested.  I had never dreamed of playing for a big-time school, I had never dreamed of being the best player out there--I just loved to play.  With my injury, however, my chances of playing college basketball were pretty slim and I was deflated.  Few people understood how my world had been turned upside-down.  But Coach Barciz, who wasn't even technically my coach anymore, reached out and offered a helping hand.

He called me everyday immediately after my injury.  (After awhile, he scaled it back to once a week.)  He stayed after games to talk to me when I decided to forgo surgery and play with a brace.  He showed up at my house to visit after I gave in and finally had surgery in December.  And the next summer, exactly one year to the date of my injury, the phone rang and I heard his scratchy voice telling me he was going to pick me up in his big boat of a car to take me out for ice cream.

In his obituary today, they called us his basketball sons and daughters.  I caught him on the tail-end of his coaching days, so I imagine there are hundreds, if not thousands, of young people Coach Barciz helped in a similar fashion.  I think about all he did and how much of himself he gave to others for so many years.  Giving up Saturdays to be at the gym, staying up late at night to draw up a new play, and waiting time after time until the last parent came to pick up their child.  Seeking out the child who needed encouragement, standing up for the child who needed support and uniting two rival teams so the high school experience would be far more productive and enjoyable.  

It's a wonder that I'm just now realizing that Coach Barciz was teaching us life skills as well as basketball.  How to be leaders, to be civic-minded, to invest heavily in your community and the people in it, to look at time as your companion, not your enemy.  To love those people around you, not those things around you.  And that a simple trip for ice cream can change a person forever.

RIP Coach Barciz.  You will be missed.   

    

Safety Officer Goes for a Zip

Most people who know me understand that I most definitely do not have a daredevil personality.  P, however, is always finding new things for us to get into.  Whitewater rafting, cliff jumping, emergency surgery in a foreign country--he's not afraid of much.  Which is fine, except that he tries to get me to participate in these activities with him.  It never ends well (I slipped down a hill trying to rope swing and got thrown from a whitewater rafting boat) but he keeps trying, God love him.  

This past Saturday I showed him an article I read about a new zip line in Hocking Hills.  I was suggesting it as an activity for him and his buddies, but five minutes later he had us booked for a Sunday tour.  Smart kid, that P.  Didn't give me long enough to back out.  So Sunday afternoon we packed up and headed down to the Hocking Hills Canopy Tours.  Much to my surprise, I had an awesome time.  Me, the Safety Officer, had a great time zipping between treestands 60 feet in the air, for 3 hours with no emergency exit.  In fact, I can't wait to do it again.  Here are some pictures of our tour.  Let me know what you think:

 

Here we are before walking across the bridge to the first zipline.  I have that look on my face that says "He's really going to make me do this.  Crap."  Really, it's behind the smile.  And under the hardhat. 

This is one of the swinging bridges we had to cross.  Surprisingly, it's one of the things that scared me the most.  I thought I would have trouble with the actual ziplining, but it was the heights that got to me.  After crossing this bridge, I hugged the tree while taking long deep breaths--I was actually nauseous.

This is me coming in for a landing and actually having fun!

  

Youins. Is it in Your Dictionary?

I heard a new word tonight.  Notice I used the word "heard" not "learned."  I don't plan on ever using the word, but I thought I'd share it with you:  youins.  As in "Are youins gonna be there at 6:00?"  or "I'm counting on youins."

Now, the first time I heard the word, I thought I heard wrong or it was a slip of the tongue.  But then it was used a second, third and fourth time.  There's no mistaking it.  Someone out there uses the word "youins" on purpose.  You've been warned.

Summertime Brings Out the Crazies

Driving to work this morning, I passed a hitchhiker. And not just a normal hitchhiker, if there is such a thing. No, this guy was on a bike with his sleep mat rolled up and strapped behind his seat, with a sign attached that read "Need Ride, Just Honk."

Wait, wait, wait.

Hitchhikers are now giving directions and offering suggestions? And as the driver, I'm expected to not only give rides, but load bikes? And what kind of greedy hitchhiker solicites car rides while riding a bike? A hitchhiker with a bike is better off than like 99% of all hitchhikers out there. (*Not an official statistic, just a guess. But I think it's a really good guess.)

Then, at lunchtime, I was driving back to work and almost hit a guy swerving his bike back and forth in the middle of several lanes of traffic. Sound like a middle schooler enjoying his summer break? Nope, just a 50-something year old man wearing a red polyester track suit trying to operate what looked like a just-stolen middle schooler's bike.

Thank goodness I didn't see anything crazy on my way home from work. Unless you count the wild-haired guy who held the door for me at Speedway. I said thanks and he answered me with a grunt. An actual, guttural grunt. (And to think I was just getting ready to compliment the do-it-yourself tattoo on his left bicep.) But he kind of saved the day for me at checkout. As the lady rang up his 6-pack of Busch Light (bottles), she asked,

"That it?"

And he grunted in one of the lowest voices I've ever heard, "Nah. I got gas."

Well, my friend, if you don't already, you will tomorrow after those Busch Lights.

VHS Update: Because I Know You Care

I ran across a few more movies to add to my list: The Princess Bride, When Harry Met Sally, Stand By Me, Labyrinth and if you're P, the Ernest movies.  I think his favorite is Ernest Goes to Camp.  It's hard to argue with that pick.

In related movie news, our local Blockbuster was having a huge sale on previously viewed DVDs.  I picked up four movies for $20:  Waitress, Superbad, the aforementioned When Harry Met Sally and Evening.  I also got Thank You for Smoking for $3.99.  I've never seen the last two, but I bought them so I didn't have to buy Porky's or some random Stone Cold Steve Austin movie.  

Also, we saw two good movies this week that I would recommend to anyone who likes thrillers.  Shooter with Mark "The funkiest of the bunch" Walhberg and Untraceable starring Diane Lane.  Both good flicks if you're looking for a quality rental.   

Be Kind, Please Rewind

Maybe it's because we're old-fashioned. Maybe it's because we're just not that into technology. Or maybe it's because we're "if it ain't broke, don't fix it" type of people. Whatever the reason, we still own and use a VCR.

It's actually a little 19-inch TV/VCR combo that I bought for my college dorm room. I got it at Value City for around $80 and my mom DID NOT want me to waste my money on it. Because #1, it was from Value City (if you don't know me, take with you this one thing: I heart the VC) and #2, it was a combo unit which, according to something she read, break easily.

Well, here I am 10 years later and five years into marriage, and that thing still sits on my dresser. Sometimes I long for a cute flat screen with a sleek DVD player. The picture would be better and we'd have twice as much space for more of my junk piles on the dresser. The one thing that holds us back? Laying in bed at night and watching some of our favorite movies that just happen to be on VHS tapes.

I know, I know. We could easily replace all of them with DVDs. But I am currently not that organized and I'm guessing that I won't be anytime soon. So we end up watching a lot of our favorites that we'd probably forget about otherwise. I'm talking about movies like Back to the Future, The Goonies, Maverick, Top Gun (I didn't put those next to each other on purpose, I swear), The Last of the Mohicans and friggin' Memphis Belle.

We've spent the last few nights watching Back to the Future and I'm amazed by how much that movie rocks. It's so original and creative, I just can't get over it. The flux capacitor, 1.21 gigawatts, and "Get your damn hands off her." Not to mention the fabulous performances from Michael J. Fox, Crispin Glover and Christopher Lloyd. And to think, with a DVD player in our bedroom, Back to the Future might have been lost to us except for the occasional showing on TBS.

So I think we're all set on the technology front for now. Or until the TV/VCR combo breaks, just like my mom said it would.

P.S. Value City, I knew you wouldn't let me down.

Bidder #105

P and I have a never-ending quest to find new and different forms of local entertainment.  Our most recent venture is a weekly auction held about 20 minutes away in a small farm town.  Each week the inventory rotates between consignment and new furniture.  We've gone a few times and picked up some nice things.  For example, P spent $40 on a Hoover Wind Tunnel canister vacuum cleaner that normally retails for $260.  We picked up a brand new bookshelf tonight for $12.

Not bad, but the real entertainment comes from less popular items that end up at auction.  The following is a list of my favorite auction items we've seen:

10: An extremely rusted pocketknife with a picture of Elvis

9: Boris and Natasha Halloween Costumes (In a set, of course, except that halfway through they ran out of Natasha costumes and just sold Boris alone, which was weird)

8: Homemade clown dolls (I almost didn't add these to the list because they're still too scary to think about)

7: Neon colored q-tips 

6: Doorknob alarms (battery-powered globes that cats, dogs or the slightest breeze could set off)

5: Ceiling tile (seriously, and in massive amounts)

4: Weed wacker wire (no weed wackers on hand, just the wire)

3: Deep fryer with a malfunctioned lid that wouldn't close (add $5 for the splatter screen you'll have to buy)

2: Set of hair nets

1: Rechargeable power drill that only works with European outlets (use it for 20 minutes, throw it away)

Even if you don't buy anything, it makes for an entertaining evening.  If you're tired of movie night, try an auction.  You could become the next proud owner of a rusted Elvis pocketknife.  Fingers crossed... 

Remember the Pink Garden Set?

Just passed it on the steps going upstairs.  Yup, haven't used it.

Lessons From the Farm Market

Gas prices continue to soar, food inflation is the highest it's been in two decades and perfectly good homes are sitting empty.  I imagine crime will increase dramatically before too long.  And all we can do is wait.

As I do about once a week, I stopped at one of our local farm markets yesterday to pick up some fresh veggies (and okay, some chocolate chip cookies).  The same guy works the counter almost every time I stop and we've gotten to know one another a bit.  I had heard through the small town grapevine that a farm market down the street (a dominant competitor) wouldn't be opening this year.  So I asked the guy if it was true and if he thought it would beef up his business.  His response was "I don't ever want to see bad times fall upon anyone."  

I'm such a softie that I bought an extra pound of bologna I didn't need.  

Times are going to get tough.  I've already started saving some extra pennies just in case.  And I think most people are doing the same--re-evaluating needs and wants, and pulling the things most important to them closer.  Maybe even creating a barricade around themselves.  But not this guy.  He's still thinking beyond himself.  And that's nice to know.   

I Know Him Through Drinking...and Bowling

Here's the deal--I love eavesdropping. Not in a manipulative way, just in an observant way. Like standing in line at the grocery store or sitting across from a group of people at a restaurant. I've picked up some great lines just listening to people interact with others. It seems that when I'm by myself, I hear the best stuff. It's as if since I'm alone and not talking, I also don't have the ability to listen. Oh, but I do. I really have to start writing this stuff down, but here are a few of my favorites from recent memory:

• "She failed her drug test.  Again."  (In line at the local Wal-Mart.)
• "You don't want to marry her.  She's crazy.  Just keep her around to feel her fake boobs."  (Except "boobs" was really another word I can't bring myself to type.)
• "I'll have everything...and jalapenos."  (Overheard at a Quizno's.  I don't know why, but this line cracks me up.  Big boy REALLY wanted to get those jalapenos.)
• "You know that guy?  I owe him like $60 bucks!  I know him through drinking...and bowling."  (So you know him through drinking and more drinking?)    

That is all for now.  I'll keep my ears open for some more gems to share.  You do the same and post any good ones below!

WWYD?

I let Bailey out last night for her bedtime bathroom break and noticed that my neighbors across the street a few doors down left their garage door open.  Otherwise, the house looked completely buttoned-up, no lights on or anything.  This same thing happened about three weeks ago to my next-door neighbor.  We know them a little better, it was about 11:30 and it was a weekend, so I knocked on their front door to let them know.  Our neighbor thanked me and was happy because he did, in fact, forget to close it.

However, the people across the street I don't know so well.  They also have a young child and a newborn.  Worth waking the entire house up at almost midnight?  What do you think?  I would definitely want someone to knock on our door, but some people might not feel the same way.

Weighed down by my do-gooder ways...   

Men, Women, Marketing and the Color Pink

One of my favorite activities is reading the Sunday paper.  I like catching up on the news, cutting coupons and browsing the advertising circulars.  When I see something I like or need, I set that particular circular aside in a separate pile.  This past weekend my pile consisted of a 20% Bed, Bath and Beyond coupon, a page from the Lowe's circular featuring outdoor patio furniture and the Aldi's flyer.  (I guess this week I didn't come across anything I needed.)  

As part of my lunch break today, my gracious co-worker made a stop at Aldi's so I could pick up a 5-piece garden tool set advertised in the above-mentioned Aldi's flyer.  The set was only $13.50 and I like the idea of all my gardening tools being stored together.  So instead of searching my garage for the trowel, then the pruner, then the cultivator, I can just hunt for one bag.  Hopefully, this will cut down my total search time from 15 minutes to 5 minutes.  See how I'm organizing my disorganization?  Clever, huh?

My co-worker and I arrived at Aldi's and after a quick search, spotted the set.  There was only one left!  I can't tell you how much this delighted me.  Seriously, that giddiness carried me through the rest of the afternoon.  Did I mention that the set is pink?  Pink little tools in a pink little bag.  It's as if Elle Woods designed it herself.  It's also sponsored by the National Breast Cancer Foundation, which makes it even more appealing.

Arriving back at work, one of our male co-workers pulled into the lot at the same time we did.  He asked us what we did for lunch and because my giddiness was still impairing my judgement, I happily announced "I bought THIS!" as I held up my kit.  He looked at the kit, then looked back at me and said "That is stupid."

He then listed all the reasons he thought it was stupid:

1. It looked cheap.
2. One of the pieces would probably break the first time I used it.
3. The pruners don't look sharp enough to cut paper.
4. I won't actually use it.
5. It's pink.

Which I get.  I really do.  He's a guy and doesn't care about whether or not his tools are green, blue or lined with diamonds.  Do they work?  Check.  Can the tools be easily located when needed?  Check.  But it got me thinking.  How could I have been so excited about something that another person looked at once and without skipping a beat, deemed a worthless piece of garbage?  

My friends, it's called men, women and marketing.  Which means I'm either a sucker, a supporter or just another female surrounded by emotional marketing targeted my way each and every day.  I'm not saying it's a bad thing; it is what it is.  Would I have made a special trip to Aldi's if this bag wasn't totally cute and sponsored by a breast cancer foundation?  Or if it was brown instead of pink?  Yikes.  Honestly, the answer is probably not.  Until now it didn't occur to me that the quality isn't top-notch (but it was only $13 and I'm happy with the quality vs. the cost) and the company doesn't disclose the amount they donate to the breast cancer foundation.  It just says "a portion of all proceeds."  It could be a penny and I would have no idea.  

My husband doesn't look at the ads in the Sunday paper, and he certainly wouldn't run out and buy something because it's pink.  My co-worker only goes shopping out of necessity, like when he blows out an elbow in one of his dress shirts.  (For those interested, I believe the 2008 count is 3.  Dude, get those elbows in CHECK.)  However, I'm proud to say I have a male marketing example to share with you as well.  

Last night at the local Blockbuster, P practically knocked me over scooting up to me to tell me he had the best idea for what we should rent.  Are you ready? Indiana Jones.  He was very excited about his idea--like really excited.  I thought--fine, whatever, I'll probably cut coupons while you have it on.  We were walking to the check-out counter when I finally noticed the HUGE Indiana Jones display in the middle of the store.  Posters, Indy hats, glasses and the movies were everywhere.  I'd walked past it 3-4 times and hadn't taken notice.  It wasn't meant for me, but it worked.  My husband rented one of the movies in the trilogy (don't ask me which, I don't care) and also realized a new Indy movie is coming out this summer (he lives under a rock). 

So here we are.  Me with my pink garden set, P with his Indiana Jones movie and my male co-worker with three elbowless dress shirts.  No damage done, just very interesting.  In case you're interested, here's a picture of the garden set:

As a final note, I wanted to give a random shout-out to the Cleveland Browns.  I googled the National Breast Cancer Foundation and browsed their website.  The fabulous Cleveland Browns are the only NFL team listed as a Corporate Sponsor.  Actually, they are the only sports team of any type listed as a Corporate Sponsor.  And before you haters conjecture, the NBCF is based in Texas, not Cleveland or anywhere else in Ohio, so it's not a local deal.  Which, in my opinion, makes it even more awesome.  I work in partner marketing and sponsorships, and know how hard it is to take the leap of being the first to sign up for something like that.  Cleveland Browns, I salute you with my new pink trowel.   

4-Day Weekend...Working

I really wanted to make an effort to never discuss work on this blog.  However, my work occupied all of my time last Thursday through Sunday.  It wasn't horrible, just long and the type of tiring that one doesn't fully realize until the job is completely over.  Which is good,  I think.  It's amazing to be part of a large group working toward the same common goal.  It's not amazing, however, when one person clearly doesn't see the same benefits of this type of working environment.  

That aside, I ran into an old college friend I hadn't seen in about 7 years.  Crazy.  Other pluses include not spending any money for four days, getting to know some of my co-workers better and spending a few nights in a really nice hotel (one of them with P)!  Time for a mini-vacation though.  Thinking about a camping weekend in a few weeks.  It has to be somewhere in a 3-4 hour radius of C-bus.  Thoughts?

In other news, I want a scooter.  $3.64 a gallon?  Are you kidding me?   

Are You in the Woods? You Should Be...

After March Madness, there's Morel Madness.  If you have no idea what I'm talking about, you're like me 7 years ago when P first mentioned "mushroom hunting."  My family had certainly never hunted mushrooms--we bought them in cartons from Kroger.  And at Kroger, if for some reason you can't find the mushrooms, you can just ask the 17 year-old stock kid to point you in the right direction.  In the woods, it's like looking for a needle in a haystack.  And that's what makes it so much fun--that and the fact that they only grow for about a month during the year in Ohio.

There is definitely skill involved--they grow around certain trees, on banks that face a certain direction, etc.  I've learned that a good mushroom hunter doesn't wander around aimlessly in the woods.  And being that tonight was a "school night" P and I didn't waste any time--we went straight to our patches and this is what we found:

A beautiful grey sponge, don't you think?

Here's another grey just peeking through the leaves and growth.  See why they're hard to spot?

This is a black sponge and also my first mushroom of the year!  I would love to say I saw it from afar, but really, I almost stepped on it. 

Since mushrooms usually grow in patches, you always hunt in a circle around your initial find.  I found these two black sponges to the left of the mushroom in the last picture.  Can you find both of them?

Two-fer!  These are two horsetails that P found.  I have no idea how he saw these!

This was our bucket at the end of the night.  We were only there for about an hour, so we were pretty proud of our haul.  (Also because the season is still early and we were on public land.)

That pride lasted until we bumped into the mushroom hunting experts--P's dad and uncle.  This is his dad's bucket only.  Geesh.  That's a haul for a weeknight!

These are the mushrooms after they were cooked using cornmeal and salt.  Delicious!  Imagine only being able to eat one of your favorite foods once a year.  Tonight was a great night.  

Oh, and after the eating, Perry checked me for ticks.  And not in the Brad Paisley type of way--in the real "I probably have ticks on me" type of way.  I did--two, actually.  Hot tip--always wear a baseball cap in the woods--something I forgot tonight.  Eww--those little things got all up in my hair.  Off to shower!  

My Dentist is a Comedian

Seriously, I heard this one from my dentist during my check-up last week and thought I'd share it along with some new pictures.

Question: What kind of flower do you have on your face?

Answer: Tulips, of course.